Some Kind of Hero

by Brenda Harlen

  She finished the creamy chocolate drink in one long swallow, then feigned a yawn. “I can probably sleep now.”

  “All right, then,” Sophie relented, taking the cup from Riane and exchanging it for the doll she still held in her arms.

  “Thank you, Sophie.” Riane’s comment referred to both the hot chocolate and the understanding.

  Sophie nodded and kissed her cheek. “Sweet dreams.”

  But when Riane finally fell asleep with her doll in her arms, she dreamed of a little girl crying.

  Joel was waiting in front of the Courtland Hotel at precisely ten o’clock Friday morning when Riane pulled up in her snazzy little BMW coupe. It was a gorgeous car, and as he slid into the passenger seat of the vehicle, he noticed the driver was gorgeous, too.

  She was wearing a red scoop-necked T-shirt and softly faded jeans. Her hair was tied away from her face today, and he itched to loosen the band around the end of the braid and sift his fingers through the silky tresses.

  He heard her speak but had been too preoccupied with his little fantasy to decipher the words.

  “Did you say something?” he asked, buckling his seat belt.

  She gave him a strange look, then glanced down at his feet. “I asked if those were sturdy shoes?”

  Joel looked down at the loafers he’d donned with khakis and a golf shirt. “As long as you don’t intend to take me rock climbing, I think they’re adequate.”

  “All right.” She pulled away from the curb, merging smoothly into the flow of traffic.

  “We’re not going rock climbing, are we?” he prompted.

  “No, we’re not going rock climbing.”

  He waited a beat, but she offered no additional information. “Where are we going?”

  “Caving.”

  “Oh.” It seemed harmless enough, if he could forget that he hated close, dark spaces. If he could forget about the day he’d been lured into Conroy’s deserted warehouse and trapped for hours with the dank smell and fetid rats.

  He rubbed a hand over the scar on his abdomen and tried to relegate the memories and frustrations to a back corner of his mind. There was no point in thinking about any of that now, nothing to be gained by recalling the sense of futility that had plagued him for so long.

  Instead, he concentrated on the scenery as Riane drove toward Charlotte’s Corridor.

  “So named,” she explained, “because the man who discovered the underground caverns, David Charlotte, couldn’t believe that such an elaborate system of interconnecting tunnels was a naturally occurring phenomenon. He believed they had to be a corridor to some kind of underground civilization.”

  Riane pulled into a gravel parking lot. “He passed away before anyone could disprove his theory, and the caves have been known as Charlotte’s Corridor ever since.”

  There were several other vehicles already in the lot, a few people wandering around. There were picnic tables in a shaded area at the far end of the parking lot along with a simple square building that advertised tourist information and public rest rooms. What he didn’t see was a ticket booth or concession stand or any other inherent signs of what a city dweller would consider civilization. His sense of apprehension magnified.

  “These caves have almost twenty-five miles of mapped passages,” Riane told him, pulling a canvas backpack out of the trunk. “It’s one of the more elaborate systems in this part of West Virginia.”

  He had no idea whether he should be impressed or not. He couldn’t imagine that they’d be expected to walk twenty-five miles—that would take days.

  Riane took a long-handled flashlight out of the bag, flicked the switch, then tucked a spare package of batteries into the back pocket of her jeans.

  “Where’s the rest of the group?” he asked, following her to the mouth of the cave.

  She glanced at him over her shoulder, frowned. “What group?”

  Uh-oh. “Isn’t this a tour?”

  She shook her head. “I thought you wanted to experience West Virginia like a native.”

  He wasn’t entirely comfortable with the note of challenge in her voice. Less so facing the huge, black hole in the wall of rock in front of him. “I’ve reconsidered,” he muttered.

  She laughed, and his irrational fear receded. He would walk naked through all twenty-five miles of cave to hear that sound again. She had such an incredible laugh. Low and smoky, unconsciously seductive.

  “Don’t be such a wimp, Logan. The only way to see the caves properly is to explore them on your own.”

  Joel plunged into the mouth of the cave behind her. There was no way he was going to let her call him a wimp.

  Still, he was unprepared for the sudden and complete darkness. It descended thick and fast, obliterating everything else. Riane had a flashlight but he didn’t, and the fragile beam from her light dispersed quickly in the large passageway. He could see nothing but dark, feel nothing but damp, and his breath started to come in short, shallow bursts as the horror of that day in the warehouse ambushed him again.

  Focus, Logan. He closed his eyes, inhaled a deep breath. The air was cool and moist, but not foul. He opened his eyes again, took a tentative step forward.

  “I think I’d like to try a museum tomorrow,” he said.

  Riane laughed again. He let the sound envelop him, blocking out the awful memories. There was no one here but Riane and him. The reminder was not only reassuring, it was inspiring. He was alone in the dark with a beautiful woman. Maybe this outing had some potential after all.

  It only took a couple of twists and turns for him to realize that Riane was a veteran of caving. She moved easily through the winding chambers while he stumbled along, trying not to think about the fact that he had absolutely no idea of where he was going—or where the men with the guns were hiding.

  “Maybe we should have taken one of the guided tours,” Joel commented from somewhere behind her, cursing under his breath as he tripped over yet another unseen obstacle protruding from the ground.

  She reached behind her to take his hand, and he happily linked his fingers through hers.

  Riane continued to move ahead, unhampered by the close confines, navigating the narrow corridors and tight corners without difficulty. Of course, she was the one with the flashlight.

  He had no idea how long they’d been inside the maze of tunnels when she stopped abruptly. Joel bumped into the back of her, mumbling a quick apology as he stepped back again.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked.

  “Dead end,” she said, turning to face him.

  “We’re lost?” He hated the note of panic in his voice, hoped she didn’t recognize it as such.

  “No, we’re not lost,” she chided. “We just have to follow this corridor back the way we came and turn around. All the tunnels are interconnected, like a maze. They twist and turn in all directions. A few are dead ends, but eventually they all lead back to the amphitheater.”

  “Amphitheater?”

  “The big chamber that we started out from.”

  “Oh.” It seemed simple, and she sounded confident enough that his uneasiness abated.

  Then she moved forward, as if to step past him, and the side of her breast brushed against his arm. The current of awareness jolted him, and he heard her sharp intake of breath. Obviously, he hadn’t been the only one affected.

  “We have to follow this, um, corridor back,” she said again.

  “I heard you the first time. I was just thinking that, since we’re not lost, there’s really no hurry.”

  “Yeah.” She cleared her throat. “There is.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s getting hot in here.”

  “Yeah,” he agreed. “It is.” He reached out, his hand coming into contact with her bare arm. Her skin was soft, but he could feel the tension in her muscles. He trailed his fingers down her arm, felt the goose bumps rise on her flesh. He caught her hand, slid his palm against hers, linked their fingers together.

  He knew she ha
d the flashlight in her other hand, but the beam of light was directed at the ground, unseen, forgotten. The darkness didn’t seem so ominous now, and in the pitch-blackness of the cave, his other senses were heightened.

  He could smell the scent of her perfume. Light and spicy. He could feel the heat from her body and the tension in it. He heard her exhale, slowly, deliberately. And he could hear the beating of her heart, loud and fast. Or maybe it was his own.

  “We agreed we weren’t going to do this,” she said, her voice slightly breathless, unsteady.

  “Yeah,” he confirmed, before his mouth touched hers. Softly. Gently. A fleeting caress.

  He felt her stiffen, but she didn’t pull away.

  He brushed his lips against hers again, lingered this time. A low hum sounded deep in her throat, then her lips softened beneath his and she was kissing him back.

  Her response was hesitant at first, almost uncertain. He wanted to take it slow, to savor the moment. But when her lips parted willingly beneath the pressure of his, the tenuous thread of his control snapped. His tongue dipped into her mouth, tasting, testing. She met his searching thrusts with her own, and he was lost.

  He groaned, helpless to do anything but surrender to the desire. The depth of her passion stunned him. This was a woman who would hold nothing back, who would demand as much as she gave. And right here, right now, he could refuse her nothing.

  It was a terrifying realization for a man who not only prided himself on his independence but guarded it fiercely. He had no time for distractions, no interest in complications. Riane Quinlan was both.

  She was also soft and warm and she tasted like heaven.

  He had decided there was no harm in savoring the kiss a little longer when he was blinded by a sudden flash of light. Riane pulled away abruptly as a voice came through the darkness.

  “Sorry, man. We didn’t know this one was taken.”

  The young, masculine voice was followed immediately by a younger, girlish giggle.

  The beam of light that had flashed in his face dropped to the ground, illuminating a couple of cigarette butts, a crushed pop can, a discarded condom package.

  Then the light was gone, the voices of the lustful teenagers drifted down the corridor, and he and Riane were alone again.

  Or rather he was alone.

  He’d felt her push past him, but he hadn’t realized she’d moved away until he reached for her and she wasn’t there.

  “Riane?”

  There was no response.

  Joel felt a first bead of sweat trickle between his shoulder blades. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, tried to remain calm despite the fact that he couldn’t see four inches in front of his face.

  “Riane?” he said again.

  Chapter 5

  R iane leaned back against the hard rock of the cavern wall, taking slow, deep breaths and willing her knees to stop trembling. Her entire body felt flushed, hot, despite the cool air inside the cave.

  She started when she heard Joel calling to her, but she couldn’t respond. Not yet. She needed a minute to regain her composure. She was still too shaky to face him.

  It had been a mistake to bring him here. She knew that now. She should have taken him to the art gallery or the museum of technology or a minor league baseball game. Somewhere bright and noisy and filled with other people. Somewhere he wouldn’t have been able to get close enough to kiss her.

  But no, she’d had to bring him to Charlotte’s Corridor—dark and quiet and isolated. What had she been thinking?

  Obviously, she hadn’t been. She’d been annoyed by some of the statements he’d made the previous afternoon at the camp—assumptions he’d made about who she was and what she did. He would have expected an art gallery or a museum, and she’d been determined to shatter his expectations.

  Now, after the way she’d responded to his kiss, he probably thought she’d led him into that dead-end tunnel on purpose. And maybe subconsciously she had. Ever since that first night, when he’d held her on the dance floor, Riane had been fighting against the attraction growing inside her.

  She leaned her head back against the rock and closed her eyes, fighting against the urge to scream out her frustrations. She could just imagine the headlines in tomorrow’s paper if she gave in to the impulse: Senator’s Daughter Has Episode in Charlotte’s Corridor. People would think she was as crazy as David Charlotte himself.

  She heard Joel call to her again, a hint of fear evident in his tone. She shouldn’t have left him alone, or she should have left him the light. Her decision to bring one flashlight had been deliberate and, yes, petty. But she’d needed to assert herself as the one in control of the situation, because every time she was near Joel Logan she felt completely out of control. Today had been no different despite the instrument in her hand.

  She directed the light at the cavern floor and pushed away from the wall. The meager beam helped her navigate her way through the maze of tunnels, but it gave no answers on how she was supposed to deal with Joel.

  “I’m here,” she called out, hating that her voice didn’t sound entirely steady.

  “I thought you’d left me.”

  She stepped closer to the direction from which his voice was emanating. “Sorry. I forgot I had the light.”

  She wished she had a second flashlight to give him, but because she didn’t, she was forced to reach out and take his hand again. His fingers, warm and strong, wrapped around hers. It should have been no more personal than holding the hand of a child, but there was something incredibly sensual about the way his much larger hand engulfed hers, something undeniably seductive about the touch of his palm against hers.

  She cleared her throat. “Follow me.”

  “I’m as anxious to get out of here as you are, sweetheart,” Joel said. “But I think we should talk about what happened.”

  “Not necessary,” Riane told him, tugging on his hand.

  But he was bigger and stronger and he wouldn’t be budged. “Do you want me to apologize for kissing you?”

  His voice had dropped to little more than a whisper, the husky cadence doing strange things to her insides. “No,” she said simply, hoping he would let the matter drop.

  He didn’t.

  “Good. Because I’m not going to.” He traced circles over the inside of her wrist with the pad of his thumb, and she knew he would feel her pulse jolt in response to the lazy caress. “I’ve been thinking about kissing you for a long time. Probably since that very first night, the first time I held you in my arms.”

  She’d thought about it, too. Far more than she should have. She’d wondered how it would feel, the pressure of his mouth on hers, the touch of his hands on her. Now she knew, and the reality had far exceeded any of her fantasies.

  But she couldn’t admit that to him. So she just shrugged, as if the earth-shattering kiss hadn’t affected her at all. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

  She repeated those words again and again to herself as she led the way out of the caves. Maybe if she said them often enough, she might actually believe them. Because despite her verbal dismissal, Riane was afraid that it had been a very big deal.

  They left the caves and headed to Memorial Park for lunch. Joel made no further mention of the kiss they’d shared, for which Riane was grateful. She was confused enough without trying to put her feelings into words. The only thing she knew for certain was that no one had ever made her feel the way he did.

  Not that she had any visions of a future with Joel. They lived in completely different worlds; they had different wants and expectations. Besides, Joel was only going to be in town for a short while. As soon as he finished whatever business he’d come here to do, he’d be gone. And her life would go back to normal again.

  The thought wasn’t nearly as reassuring as it should have been. Nor was the realization that she knew very little about his business in West Virginia. He’d told her only that he was looking for a witness, and she hadn’t even given that fact as much co
nsideration as she should have done. She’d been distracted by his presence and her growing attraction to him. But after he’d gone last night, she’d wondered. And worried. Was it merely a coincidence that he’d hoped to meet with his witness at her charity ball? Or was his witness someone she knew?

  The possibility had kept her awake long into the night, and it niggled at her subconscious again. He’d promised that his investigation had nothing to do with her camp, and she believed him. But how was he supposed to track down his witness when he was spending so much time with her?

  It was a question she should ask him, but she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted the answer. She didn’t want to know that Joel’s interest in her was motivated by something other than the attraction between them.

  She bit back a sigh as she unfolded the thick Mexican blanket. Joel took it from her hands, his fingers brushing hers—deliberately?—in the transfer. Deliberate or not, the casual contact sent that heated awareness zinging through her body again. This time she wasn’t quite able to bite back the sigh, and it carried more than a hint of frustration.

  Joel sent her a quizzical look, then busied himself spreading the blanket on the grass beneath the widespread branches of an old red maple tree. Riane set the picnic basket on the woven fabric and began unloading the array of food Sophie had packed.

  “Why did you become a cop?” Riane asked, determined to channel their conversation toward impersonal matters.

  Joel was, understandably, startled by the question. He bit into a fresh buttermilk biscuit and swallowed before responding. “Maxwell Archer.”

  “Who?”

  “He was a cop with the Philadelphia PD.”

  “How did you meet him?” Riane asked, toying with the potato salad on her plate.

  “He arrested me.” Joel grinned at the memory and helped himself to a piece of fried chicken. “Caught me with a pocketful of stuff outside a convenience store, took me down to the station. We went through the motions—mug shots, fingerprints, et cetera. The routine wasn’t new to either of us.